Surely to the Sea
by began-to-climb
Summary: Tracy is getting worried about a rumor she heard on set of the Corny Collins Show and Link, while silently wondering if they're true, tries to reassure her disstilled nerves. Trink, Vietnam


**Name**: Surely to the Sea

**Rating**: PG

**Summary**: A minute alone brings about some of Tracy's newest concerns, ones that Link is now beginning to consider though he won't let it show.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters. And the song belongs to Elvis Presley, _Can't Help Falling in Love._

**Authors Note**: This is an extract that I considered using for chapter 3 of Hey Little Girl. Needless to say, about four different beginnings didn't make it past the cutting room.

XXXX

"Like a river flows surely to the sea, darting so it goes, some things are meant to be." His soft lullaby was barely above a whisper, hummed in her ear, while his fingers lightly played with the tendrils on her shoulder.

She shifted in his embrace, her cheek plastered against his jacket sleeve, smiling to herself at the faint squeeze in her hand. The wall was cold against her back, the floor warming underneath her, providing an almost content nest for the two teens as they cuddled in the corner of the dressing room.

Link continued to sing the melody, his voice as silky smooth as the king himself, head rested on his girlfriends. The room was quiet outside his song, void of the rabid chaos behind the closed door, cocooning them in privacy, which had become something few and far between. It was nice, the serenity of the moment, yet a tad overwhelming all the same. It was difficult to believe the sound of silence was louder than the voices of dozens.

Tracy fidgeted again, trying to scoot closer to Link, though she didn't show any sign of response when he pressed a kiss in her hair. He gazed down at her, craned back to examine her perturbed expression. Lines of worry wrinkled her face, an anomaly in her cocktail of optimism and delight. Something was upsetting her—that much was clear—but he couldn't tell what. And he didn't know which bothered him more: that she was upset by something or that he couldn't read her like he usually could.

He stopped his twiddling with her hair and his hand slipped down to cup her shoulder, hugging her closer to him. "Are you all right, darlin?"

Tracy glanced up at him, a flicker of surprise rearing its head before her 'happy face' dominated. She pried on a not-so-convincing smile. "Yes. I'm fine."

Link raised his eyebrows at her, tucking his chin in for effect. He knew she was a falterer when he used that maneuver. "Trace?"

"Link, really." she strained uncomfortably. "It was just something Brad and Will were talking about after the show, is all. It's not really that important."

"It's obviously important enough that it has you in a fix."

Tracy looked up at him, eyes quivering, a breath of sadness exhaling from her lips. She curled a strand of hair behind her ear and swallowed. Then, wrenching from his protective arms, she stationed herself beside him, legs crossed underneath one another, hands wringing in her lap. A look of seriousness unveiled itself; Link straightened against the wall.

"Brad was talking about something President Kennedy said, something concerning Vietnam and the agreement that was signed about Laos. He was saying that we might be going to war. Soon."

Link let out a nervous chuckle. "Tracy—"

"Link, if that war comes, our lives, what'll happen? What if you get drafted or something and have to go fight? What if Seaweed has to? Things will change and that scares me a little. I don't want things to change, not for the worst. I mean, you and I, we just started. I don't want you have to leave me. Link…"

"Tracy…" he said quietly, pivoting around to mimic her sit. Head tilted to his risen shoulder, he hook her chin, bringing her eyes to level with his. He had never seen her chestnut eyes so red. "Hey. You're getting worked up for nothing. That's just talk. That war everyone's predicting, the one people are getting scared over, it's not going to happen. Not to us."

"You promise?"

The smallest possible smile mustered for him. "I promise."

XXXX

He was shipped out eight months later, donned in the military uniform, blended with the sea of green and black men waiting for the steel plane. His usually coifed ebony hair was a rag of unconditioned strands, stuffed under a tan hat; the signature curl long buried by the burden of duty. The pack he was assigned, the same number on his armband sketched into the fabric, was at his feet, kicked off to the side, kicked away like the life he was leaving.

Mr. and Mrs. Turnblad stood off to the side, him holding her, her eyes swimming with tears for the boy that had become overnight family. Penny stared at the floor, hands laced together in front of her, undoubtedly reminded of parting with Seaweed who had been called a week early. His father, unable to watch his only son be cast out for what he didn't support, wasn't among the departing wavers; Mr. Turnblad filled that loss, with a gentle hand and loving hug.

He wrapped his arms around Tracy, pressing his forehead to hers. She kept her eyes bowed, lips quivering, hugging her arms like a statue. If she held onto him, it'd be real. She'd be forced to reconcile with the thought that this could be the last time she touched him. They stayed fitted together for minutes, hours, for however long time allocated them.

He kissed her passionately, for the first time not caring that her parents were their audience, cupping her cheeks, her hot tears wetting his face Tears slipped down her cheeks, one, two, three, and more. He clenched his jaw, swallowing hard, that painful swell constricting in his chest. He'd promised this wouldn't happen, promised that he'd be with her, yet here they were, bidding farewell for possibly the last time. God, he hoped not.

He gingerly wiped away the tears, thumbs brushing her soft skin, causing her to hiccup and unwind her arms, hands pillaring on his chest. "Don't cry. Okay? Please don't cry. Not for me." he pleaded, voice cracking as his own aqua eyes crystallized with waters. "Because I'm gonna come back. And we're going to get married. Okay." Tracy nodded, smashing her lips together. "Please don't cry."

There was a certain way the heart broke when one lost someone they love. He could feel it then, strong in his chest, like cupid's arrow gone wrong. It left a bad taste in his mouth, pungent and repulsive, an ache that hadn't a remedy.

In ten minutes boarding was called and he was gone with a final wave, lost in the sea, drifting farther and farther away by the hands of fate.

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End file.
